


Spellwell Carol AU - For you, maybe I'm a fool (but please say you'll be my darling)

by Silly_writer



Category: Carol (2015), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mary is madly in love, Spellwell - Freeform, Zelda is that bitch, you know the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silly_writer/pseuds/Silly_writer
Summary: December, 1952. Mary Wardwell, 23, is studying to become a teacher while working part time at a jewelry store. She stands at a crossroad in her life. Should she marry her friend Adam? Should she wait for true love, and risk spending her life alone, if nobody else wants her? But one day, a week before Christmas, a mysterious redhead walks into the store, turning Mary's whole world upside down. Maybe she is the one she has always been waiting for...
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 37
Kudos: 64





	1. The ring

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this crazy idea! Basically here I draw my inspiration from the plot of Carol (mostly the movie, with occasionnal borrowings from the book), though I won't follow the story very meticulously, I gave my own twist to it and added a few characters (Hilda, for example). I hope you enjoy!

The sound of the doorbell, shrill and insistent, feels like an intrusion into Mary’s peaceful morning. She knows who it is. 

  * Open up! It’s me, Adam!



His voice goes up from the street to the open window; warm, but it makes Mary wince. He didn’t say he would come this morning. Still, she finishes up tying her hair up in a bun, and pops her head out of the window. 

  * I’ll be down in a minute. 



Two minutes later, the door of Mary’s building slams shut, as she joins Adam on the sidewalk. 

  * How can you look so pretty so early in the morning, I’ll never know… 



Mary blushes, with both a small smile and a shrug. It’s not that she doesn’t like the attention, it’s just… 

  * No seriously, I can’t believe how effortlessly… 
  * Oh stop it. 



His face changes suddenly, a mask of confusion settling in. 

  * What? I’m just trying to be thoughtful… 



Mary looks across at those puppy eyes, the distraught in them, and somehow she doesn’t find them adorable, or even pitiful; she just finds them annoying. They stroll down the street, in silence, for a few minutes. She knows he will resent her, but Mary speaks up her mind anyway. 

  * Not this morning, Adam… 
  * “Not this morning”, “please not tonight”, when? 



The question hits Mary with full force. She’s 23, and single. Or at least she thinks she is, even if she knows Adam has referred to her as his fiancé a few times. She doesn't feel like it’s what they are. When will she be ready to talk about those things? To act on them? What will her life be if she waits too long?

  * I… I don’t know. 



She stares at her feet as the words escape her mouth, and feels Adam’s eyes on her. A heavy silence falls onto them once more, covered by the sounds of the city walking up, increasing as they dive deeper into it. New York in december; grey, fresh without being really cold, melancholic of an autumn not so long gone and of a still shy winter, and somehow joyful anyway. The Christmas lights and decorations, which have been up for weeks now, contrast with Adam’s pouty mood. After passing a particularly flamboyant tree, he tries breaking the tension. 

  * I was just complimenting you… 
  * I know. I’m sorry. 



And she really is. She searches for something to say, just to try to make him feel better. She doesn’t want to hurt him; nobody would want to hurt Adam. He’s a good guy. That’s what everybody tells her, all the time. Though when he acts all sweet she knows he has other motives; and, even if he talks so innocently, he keeps pressing her to address them. She stops walking abruptly.

  * We’re here. 



Her tone was cold, but she couldn’t help it. She looks up at the sign : “Frankenberg jewelry store.” Adam takes her by the arm to catch her attention again, and she jumps. He doesn't seem to notice. 

  * I’m sorry Mary, really. Forgive me. Have a great day at work, alright?



He is back to his usual big smile now, and Mary can’t help smiling back, as he walks away. 

  * Love you!



He lifts his hat dramatically in the air when he says it, and Mary is left amused by the gesture, but puzzled and somehow bitter at the words, even if it’s not the first time he says them. 

  * Hi Mary!
  * Hi!



John, the manager, smiles politely as he hands her a santa hat. 

  * Compliments of the season from the management!



Mary looks at him, slightly confused. He seems just as out of place. 

  * You really have to wear it though, the boss asked that all employees do for Christmas time. 
  * So why are you not wearing one?



He seems startled by the question; maybe because Mary usually doesn't usually question authority. Clumsily, he reaches under the counter and grabs his, sinking it on his head. With an uncomfortable smile, he disappears in the back store. 

The day passes by slowly, despite the many customers paying the store a visit. It’s one of the busiest times of the year, employees are expected to sell — and today Mary has to run the store on her own.

During the empty hours of the afternoon, she gets lost in contemplating the delicate chains, the delightedly carved pendants, the watches, gold, silver, colorful jewels; all she will never have. She always knew she wouldn’t have this kind of life, but it doesn’t mean she stopped hoping for something different. Sometimes she tries picturing it, this life she might have. In a few years, after her studies are done, she will be a teacher. Will she be married to Adam? She cherishes his friendship so much. But the one time they tried… it didn’t… 

In a way, she loves him. In a way. Maybe it can be enough; enough not to be miserable, like her mother was. Better than being alone. 

  * I’m looking for a ring for my sister. 



Mary startles at the raspy voice, and looks up, her glance locking into green blue eyes. The woman in front of her is slightly taller, a redhead with vivid red lips, and whose hair cascades gracefully unto her shoulders. She leans on the counter, taking a puff of her cigarette; Mary doesn’t dare telling her she is not allowed to smoke inside the store. 

  * Uhh, yes… A ring. 



The woman smirks, a glint in her gaze. She knows. 

  * A ring. 



She breathes out a filament of smoke, and Mary would swear she let out a soft chuckle. Suddenly realizing how she must have been staring, flustered, for the last minute, she pulls out one of the displays and pops it on the counter. It’s as if she just came alive, her hands moving in little nervous jolts, humming in concentration. She starts studying its content with excessive meticulousness; a way not to look up and meet those eyes again. 

  * What does she like, your sister? Gold, silver… 



The woman sighs. 

  * Gold, I suppose. 
  * What about this?



The fur coat, that aura of luxury; Mary figures the woman won’t mind the cost. So she gets out a delicate, pink gold ring, with a dainty leaf motif going around it. The refined quality of the object immediately catches the ginger’s eye. When Mary hands it to her, she takes it, and tries it on unceremoniously; not the behavior usually observed by clients, who tend to treat the objects with an almost overdone care. But again, this woman doesn't seem to go by everyone else’s rules. 

She took off her cigarette holder, that little golden thing, before trying on the ring. Mary studies it, down on the counter; the delicate forms remind her of the woman in front of her; glowing, precious, but probably unbreakable. 

  * Maybe something a bit more… colourful. 



Mary shakes off her thoughts with a nod of her head, and picks up another gold ring, with a turquoise embedded into the craftwork, reminiscent of a floral tapisserie. 

  * Would this do?



The woman picks it up again, slips it on, and looks at her hand. Mary’s eyes are drawn to it as well; the strong, slender fingers, the thin skin. Her throat turns dry, and she looks away from them, noticing the woman’s frowned brows. 

  * Too fanciful?


  * No, I’m impressed… 



For some reason, Mary feels suddenly nervous, puzzled by the mysterious answer. The woman in front of her is so focused, so composed, she almost seems mad. But then the corner of her mouth twists up in a warm smile, and she leans even closer. 

  * That’s perfect. 



Mary smiles back, overwhelmed with some sort of childish pride. 

  * You seem to have a sixth sense for those things. 



The shy woman blushes at the compliment, and fails to find something relevant to answer. 

  * Well… 


  * I do think I’ll have to come back and get this one for myself, though… 



The redhead picks up the first ring again, slipping it in her middle finger and smirking in contentment. It does fit her strong hand beautifully; strong, but surprisingly gracious. 

  * But for now, I’ll take this one. 
  * Alright. 



Mary starts putting away the displays she took out, avoiding the woman’s eyes again. She doesn't know why, but she hopes the woman will leave soon, and at the same time doesn’t want her to leave at all. 

  * I’ll have to get a larger size, my sister has those… baby hands, with little chubby fingers.



Her dry laugh brings Mary’s glance back to her face, and for a second she sees a glimpse of what looks like genuine joyfulness. Nonetheless, the mysterious expression is back too fast for Mary to linger on it. Instead, she hides behind her professional duties. 

  * You know, we can deliver it at her door on Christmas day. It's a new service we offer here at Frankenberg. 



The ginger ponders the offer, before nodding. 

  * I’ll take advantage of that new service then. 



The way she looks at Mary in this moment, a touch of familiarity in the way she tilts her chin up; Mary is enthralled. How can someone look like that, if not in a dream? And how can someone like that be so kind to someone like her, so… 

  * Don’t you need to write down her address?



She startles at the velvety voice, and thinks to herself she would recognize it in a crowd of thousands. But now is not the time to linger into the hope of miraculously seeing her again. 

  * Oh, yes… 



Mary grabs a delivery slip and a pen. 

  * It’s to be delivered at 226, Greendale avenue. 
  * New York?
  * Yes. 
  * And the name of the recipient?
  * Hilda Spellman. I’ll be here to receive the gift as well, I also live there at the moment. 



A little strange to tell her this, Mary thinks. She finishes writing the note, and looks up. 

  * Now I’ll just need your name, then we can proceed with your payment and you can be on your way!
  * Marvelous. 



The woman stares, and it makes Mary lose her train of thought for a second. 

  * So, your name?



She smiles, as if she had been well aware that she forced her to repeat the question. 

  * Zelda Spellman. 



Each letter drew itself on the paper and into Mary’s mind. When she looks up again, Miss Spellman has finally quit her staring, and is seemingly looking for money in her wallet. For just an instant, the young woman can observe her face, the defined line of her eyebrows, her thin lips, the fine curve of her nose. Adam’s nose is not very pretty, a sort of rough draft; not a nose to inspire devotion. The thought catches Mary off guard; it surprises her, troubles her even. A few bills suddenly appear on the counter. 

  * Keep the change. 



She doesn’t wait for Mary to count them, she puts her wallet back in her purse, adjusts her coat and steps back. 

  * Goodbye. 



Mary’s words stay stuck in her throat. How can she tell her a simple goodbye, when she wants to say so much more? And now she has turned around, is walking towards the exit, is just a few steps from the door. And, as if it was the most natural, casual thing, she turns around one last time. 

  * I like the hat. 



Did she wink? Mary smiles, but it’s probably too late. The door opens with an odd sound, just as a shiny thing attracts Mary’s eye on the counter. She left her cigarette holder; just the sight of it brings an unknown flutter to the young woman’s stomach. 

  * Madam, you… 



But she is gone. Mary looks down at her address, on that little piece of paper. 


	2. The lunch

  * Mary, can you get that?
  * Yes, no problem!



There are two clients waiting and a woman complaining about a broken necklace, but Mary gestures a brief apology and rushes to the phone anyway; no one will pick it up if she doesn’t. 

  * Frankenberg jewelry store, how can we help you?
  * It’s you, isn’t it?



Mary freezes at the voice. 

  * Hi, Miss Spellman. Did you… 
  * I did. Thank you so much for sending it back, I thought I had lost it. 



A blow of air seems to almost caress Mary’s ear when she hears the woman exhaling. She imagines her sitting on a chic couch in her living room, blowing the smoke between rounded lips; the cigarette tightly sitting into that little golden holder. She sees her tapping it on the side of the ashtray, and then her gracious finger bringing it back to her mouth again. 

  * Am I disturbing you?



Mary glances at the clients waiting, and decides to ignore their sighs.

  * No, it’s fine.



She has a feeling the woman would have gone on even if she had said the opposite. There is a sort of seriousness to her voice, which contrasts with the familiarity she showed her on their first — and last — meeting.

  * Have lunch with me.



The suddenness of the offer, the tone (ironic, almost?), the general strangeness of it all; Mary feels suddenly dizzy, her mind foggy and useless. How can just a few words do that to a person? And those few words sound like a dare, something Mary never accepts, but she finds herself opening her mouth and…

  * Today?
  * Why not?



The clever expression seems to suddenly switch around the situation; as if Mary had been the one proposing this all along.

  * At what time is your break?



Mary doesn’t even hesitate before answering. 

  * At eleven, but it’s only 45 minutes.



She could be late, she thinks. She could be late at work, get fired, and she wouldn’t even care.

  * That should be fine. I know a place.



This should be strange — it is a bit, really — but Mary doesn’t mind. The Spellman woman definitely does not give a damn about the world’s usual ways. A silence, weirdly comfortable, lingers between them for a few seconds.

  * Go back to work now, I shouldn’t keep you.



Mary is so used to being ordered around like that — it’s almost as if the woman knows that she will obey.

  * Uhh, yes, alright. I’ll see you later then.
  * You will.



The echo of her voice is long gone, when Mary finally puts the phone down. Walking back to the counter, she struggles to shake off the falling-off-a-cliff feeling of the conversation. What foolish thing did she just do?

* * *

Her steps on the pavement, firm, determined, resonate with the sound of a new freedom. Faustus wouldn’t have let go to lunch with a stranger, some store clerk. Well, he would have let her, but a hundred vicious comments would have slipped out of his snake-like lips, that night at dinner. “Did the girl enjoy her free lunch?” “What are you trying to do, make new friends? And why would she be friends with you?” 

He wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, decades ago, he had been, maybe not a good, but a decent man. Or, at least he appeared to be. Zelda is not sure at all anymore. Year after year, he got worse. Occasional degrading remarks became constant, relentless abuse. Words turned into gestures; doors slammed, fists punched against walls, and once, a hand slapping her face. It was enough.

She could see it on his face, the confusion, when one night she walked up to him in the living room, her bags packed, to announce she was moving in with her sister; and, most importantly, asking for divorce. He tried to argue, sluggishly, then feverishly; he just couldn’t believe it. The younger, less confident, obedient Zelda had grown into this determined woman, and he had not even noticed.

Walking up the street in the fresh December breeze, she flattens her burgundy dress with the palm of her hand and tilts her head up; vanishing the memories away. The shop is just around the corner.

  * Hello.



The young woman jumps at the sound of her voice, and turns around with an awkward smile.

  * Hello Miss Spellman. 
  * Call me Zelda.



She tries putting some warmth in her tone, but fails miserably.

  * Zelda… Where are we going?



She doesn’t even know what she is doing here, but she gestures to the young woman to follow her anyway.

  * Follow me.



* * *

  * I’ll have a martini.



Her stare seems to pierce through the young woman, and she looks down at the menu in her hand.

  * I’ll have the same…
  * And will you ladies be eating?
  * I won’t…



The brunette looks up again, puzzled, before Zelda smiles from behind the smoke of her freshly lit cigarette.

  * But please, take whatever you like, it’s on me.



Suddenly, she is all red and nervous.

  * Oh, you don’t have to…
  * I want to.



Zelda chuckles. What a peculiar little thing she has before her eyes… The strand of hair falling into her lost eyes, as if living partially in this world and partially in another; in her dreams, perhaps. And now she is hesitating, her gaze roaming the menu. Zelda leans over the table, pointing with her finger on the menu. 

  * I recommend this.



The girl doesn’t even take a second to consider, and points it to the waiter.

  * I’ll have that.
  * Alright. I’ll be right back with your drinks.



Zelda gives him a polite smile, before turning to her guest again.

  * I don’t think I know your name…



She becomes all febrile again, maybe realising she should have told her earlier on. But Zelda herself thinks she should have asked; she has never been good at introductions, or small talk.

  * I’m Mary. Wardwell.
  * Mary. A good classic name.



Mary chuckles slightly at the words. Zelda wonders if she sounded a bit cold, or even rude, but the woman is still smiling.

  * Well, I didn’t choose it.



It’s Zelda’s turn to chuckle now.

  * That’s true.



They both stay silent for a moment; Mary placing a strand of hair behind her ear, and Zelda smoking.

  * So you’re not the person that everyone wants you to be?



The question seems to take the younger woman aback. She opens her mouth, closes it again, starts a sentence, stops in the middle of it.

  * You don’t have to answer that.



Zelda knows she was going a bit far; and again, she doesn’t know why and how she is doing it. It’s a new game she is playing, and as right as it feels, she is not sure she is as good as she lets on. And she is even less sure the girl knows what the game is.

Her eyes glued to Mary, she reaches for her cigarette case in her coat pocket, opening it for her. The woman mouths a “No, thank you”, looking away from her eyes. The waiter suddenly appears.

  * Here are your drinks. Enjoy!
  * Thank you. 



They both take a sip at the same time before putting their glass back down.

  * Do you have any children?



It’s obvious, she is trying to change the subject. Zelda wonders for a second if she should be telling the truth or not, before settling for honesty. Something about Mary makes the redhead want to trust her; she doesn’t usually trust people so easily. She made the mistake once.

  * Well, my brother and his wife died a few years ago.
  * Oh, I’m sorry.
  * It’s fine.



Zelda takes a moment before continuing, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She hates that unsteady voice she takes in those moments.

  * So… I’m taking care of his daughter now.
  * How old is she?
  * Almost five.



If she could only see herself; that sweet smile on her lips, her eyes full of pride. Suddenly looking less rough around the edges. Mary saw it, and the redhead can’t imagine the way her heart speeded, that warmth spreading in her chest at the sight.

  * So you and your husband are taking care of her?
  * I…



It always feels weird to say it.

  * I am divorced, actually. Well, to be divorced.



There is a poorly dissimulated expression of shock in the young woman’s face.

  * I’m sorry
  * Don’t be.



She seems puzzled, but stays silent. Zelda takes a long inhale of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a loud sigh.

  * And what about you?
  * What about me?
  * You’re not married?
  * No.



She lets out a nervous laugh at that, picking up her martini for a big sip.

  * Any… prospects?



Zelda knew she was making her feel uncomfortable. She also craved to know the answer; but that she wouldn’t show.

  * Well, there’s my friend Adam…
  * Friend?



She looks down, suddenly very shy — or at least more than she usually is. 

  * He wants to be more, it’s just…
  * Not sure yet?



She smiles. 

  * Yes. 



Zelda’s tone remained casual, but she couldn’t refrain a slight smirk. 

  * And this job?
  * Oh, it’s just a little job until I finish college. 
  * What are you going to be?



Mary shifts slightly on her seat at the question. She is clearly not used to attention, Zelda thinks. 

  * A teacher. 



Zelda looks down; and her expression is unreadable. 

  * You’ll be a good teacher. 



Mary chuckles nervously again, but holds Zelda’s stare this time. 

  * What do you do on Sundays?
  * Nothing in particular, what do you do?



Neither of them have broken the stare yet. Zelda leans back in her seat. Should she do this?

  * Well… 



Mary looks at her expectantly, a shaky breath escaping from her parted lips. 

  * I’m living with my sister in our family’s ancestral home for now, you’d be welcome to come have lunch with us… 



A small, baffled smile draws itself on the brunette’s lips. 

  * I’d love to. 



Zelda grins back, though soon hiding her joy with a few sips of martini. 

  * You’ll see, my sister is a great cook… 



Mary nods, still smiling. 

  * Do you cook?



Zelda lets out a dry laugh. 

  * Hardly… Do you?
  * Sometimes. 



For a short moment the noise of the crowded restaurant seems to fade out, and with it the brisk light of a winter day at noon, pouring through the large windows; leaving the two women, alone, staring into each other’s eyes, silent. Smiling. There is a familiarity in the moment, which surprises them both — especially Zelda. But what surprises her even more are the words escaping her lips before the moment breaks off. 

  * What a strange girl you are… 



She seems startled. 

  * Why?



Zelda looks away from the first time, while she feels Mary’s stare on her. 

  * Flung out of space… 



Zelda would have liked to keep that smile for herself, and those words, but it’s too late. Mary saw that glint of fascination mixed with gratefulness, the genuine interest behind her playfully cold facade. Maybe. She can’t let her see too much, not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo the story continues :) I hope this is interesting enough despite following Carol's plot, but also doesn't disappoint some of you that expected me to follow it more closely. Anyway, kudos and comments (aka what I live for) are always appreciated!!


	3. When it happens, you'll know

  * Ah! That was a good dinner, wasn’t it?
  * Yes, it was. 



The cold evening air prompts Mary to tighten her scarf, and cross her arms to keep her wool trench coat in place, as they push the door of the restaurant. As soon as they are out, Adam picks up a vigorous pace, eager to get home. 

  * I hate winter!



He turns around, wincing, and waits for Mary to catch up. When she does, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, clearly unaware of the woman’s discomfort. She tries ignoring it too, though she finds herself tightening her own arms around her chest. She looks at the few snowflakes coursing in a gust of wind by the lamp post. 

  * I love winter… 
  * You’re shivering!



His laugh tumbles down the empty street, where Mary’s apartment is — close enough at least. She shrugs. He never understands these things. 

  * I can't wait for spring. 
  * Winter has barely started!



  
  


A chuckle escapes Mary’s lips. Adam can be so silly sometimes, in a sort of charming way; maybe that’s why she seems to never be able to stop seeing him. 

  * Well, I have things to look forward to… 
  * Like what?



  
Suddenly, he stops, and looks at her. A rush of nervousness courses through Mary’s veins.

  * Would you travel with me to Europe in May?



Mary’s mouth falls open, but no words with it. Adam stares, joyful expectation soon turning to bitter disappointment in his eyes. 

  * I… I just… 
  * You don't want to go?



She inhales deeply, and takes a step aside. When she exhales into the chilly night, it blows out a discreet fog, which immediately reminds her of those strands of smoke slipping out of Zelda's lips. But the face in front of her is not the mysterious redhead’s, it’s Adam’s, and he seems crushed. 

  * I thought you’d be thrilled…



Turning around, he starts walking again. As he lights up his cigarette, Mary hears him mumble. 

  * I offer you the world and you don't want it… 


  * I didn’t say that!



He turns around swiftly at the words, with the shadow of a smile on his lips. 

  * I just… 



  
  


He changes back into a grumpy, disgruntled child as soon as he hears Mary's hesitation. His glance hardens, almost in a scary way, and he turns around again. 

  
  


  * Wait, Adam!



  
  


He spins around once more .

  
  


  * Don’t you know that I love you?



  
  


His loud voice turned to a desperate whisper on the last syllable — anger melted into sadness, which forms a lump of crippling guilt in Mary’s throat. 

  
  


  * Yes, I know, but…



  
  


Adam doesn’t hear the sheer distress heavying every silence between Mary’s words. He just takes her hands, smiling softly, as if that would resolve anything. Mary’s hands stay cold and stiff at the contact. 

  
  


  * We can take our time. I know you want to take it slow, I’ll be waiting… 
  * You don’t understand!



He seems stunned, and backs off with a worried expression on his face. 

  
  


  * I don’t understand what?



  
  


Mary doesn’t know how to explain, can’t even put it into words, but there’s something there, something… that doesn’t feel quite right. There is suddenly a world between her and Adam, an insurmountable wall, and Mary feels like maybe it will never break down.

  
  


  * I don’t know… what love is. I’m not… 



Adam gets closer again, and squeezes her hands. 

  * When it happens, you’ll know. 



Mary stares into his eyes, wishing she would see some hint, make up her mind for once. She sees sweetness, a kind soul, an irritating tendency to think everything will work out exactly like one wishes. She sees Adam, but not anything more. He is still just as soft, almost pleading. 

  * I don’t expect you to fall in love with me overnight. I know I was a bit quick, but… this is new for you. Take your time. 



Mary nods, absentmindedly. She aches for the moment to end, and at last they reach the door of her building. 

  * Can I come up for a drink?
  * I’m sorry, I’m tired… 



He doesn’t even try to convince her like he usually does. Instead, he takes a step back and grins. 

  * Alright. Sweet dreams!
  * Goodnight. 



Mary pushes the door before he can say anything else, or blow a kiss. As she walks — or, rather, runs — up the stairs to her flat, the thought of taking her time, something she always does but suddenly realises she deeply hates, spins around in her head. If she took her time with him, would it end up all well after all? 

Though now, as she prepares for bed, the thought of someone else slips in. Someone who invaded her dream from the moment she laid eyes on her — and made them sweeter than they ever were. Someone with whom she doesn’t want to take her time, and it strangely feels right. 

She falls asleep to that thought, entering her own little world, in which the redhead floats gracefully all around her, her universe all made of her, and no time and no doubt, just a pure, righteous feeling. Just… love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the new chapter (even if it's short), the next one should be published this weekend! I figured it would be better to make shorter chapters but publish more often. Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	4. The fiend behind the man

The faint jazz piano and the smoked atmosphere gives to the whole evening a mellow feeling — in fact, one could even call it vaguely dull. That’s what happens to parties organized by the bored housewives of rich business owners, Zelda thinks. She only came here because some old friends insisted, and now she is standing at the window, looking out closely at a few snowflakes coursing in a gust of wind by a lamp post. 

  
  


  * Hi. 



The feeling of his voice, the way it hisses and slips under the skin almost, makes Zeda shiver. She shrugs and lets the shadow of a smile brush her lips, doing her best to maintain her facade. She turns around. 

  * Faustus. 



He bows his head — a demonstration of respect that is, indeed, just a petty demonstration. 

  * You look _exquisite._



The redhead knows she does, and she bows her own head as a response. She won’t be saying thank you to the man who made her question if she was somehow worth anything, not today, not anymore. Instead, she looks him up and down, with an ice cold glance. 

  * And you look well, as usual. 
  * Do I?



He gets closer, and Zelda can smell his breath. 

  * Had a little drink, haven’t we?



Faustus chuckles. He obviously had more than one. 

  * And? I do remember you not hating the taste of _liquid poison_ once in a while… Or every night after dinner. 



Zelda takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back the burn — guilt, anger, at herself and at him. She looks down at her Martini, and takes a big sip with a smile. She can’t let him see he still has any sort of power over her. She decides to ignore his vicious comment and change the subject; what she knows he despises the most.

  * How is business?



His toothy grin widens. 

  * Good, good. Less fun now that you’re not here… 



Zelda sighs. 

  * I don’t remember having so much _fun_ back when I was there… 



He seems genuinely hurt by that, but Zelda stays cold. She looks away, wondering if anyone else here feels the way she is feeling right now; completely out of place. How did she end up here, in this room, with those sad people? How did she end up with him, that angry, pathetic liar, who is now desperately hanging unto her arm to get her attention back, only to push her down and even lower with his bitter words?

  * Oh come on, Zelda. Don’t be so hard on me. We had our moments. 



Zelda shrugs. They really did, but those were long gone; and Faustus’s behaviour sheds a new, disturbing light on every gleam of happiness they ever shared. 

  * Edward wanted us to run this business together… 



The last sentence strikes Zelda in a sensitive spot, and Faustus sees it immediately, so used to sensing when and how she becomes vulnerable. Another burning lump threatens to invade her throat. She almost stays silent, almost gives him what he wants, though at the last minute, before walking away, she spits the words out. 

  * And you wanted to run it yourself. 
  * No, that’s not… 
  * Your ideas. Your ways. Your decisions. 



Zelda’s eyes are throwing flames now. 

  * And no, Faustus, they weren’t always good decisions. 



The last few words linger. During a second of silence, Zelda almost thinks that he will apologize, make promises, be at least a little bit like the man she once knew. But he suddenly grabs her by the arm, spilling a bit of her Martini onto her dress without even noticing, and brings his face only two inches away from hers. His grip on her arm is tight, his breath is hot, moist on her face, and his eyes now look like a mad man's. 

  * And what about Sabrina, huh? Her family has been broken once, you want to do this to her again? You want to destroy her second chance at a good life?



Zelda stays there, frozen, for an instant that seems to last minutes, remembering those hundreds of times where she should have known, she should have guessed, she should have seen through him; Faustus has always been this way. Only now he lets it all out. But even if she finally sees it, his words don’t hurt less. The burning lump of a still fresh pain now burns vividly in her throat, down into her chest, pressing on her lungs so strongly that she doesn’t know if she will be able to speak. She manages to let out a whisper. 

  * Get off of me. 



He stares with that ridiculous, meant to be menacing glance, not moving at all. The redhead even catches his gaze hovering over her lips; that is when she pushes him away in a swift movement. 

  * Get off me!



Once out of his grip, Zelda tilts her head up and looks down at his confused face. 

  * You’re pathetic, Faustus. 



As she walks away and towards the door, she feels a few pairs of eyes on her, but she keeps on. She barely has time to close the door behind her, before her tough-build defenses break up, and a few tears — of pure, boiling anger, of desperation, of confusion and guilt and helplessness — fill her own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! As usual comments keep me going ☺️


	5. Anything or nothing

  * Hi. 



A warmth settles itself in Zelda’s chest at the sound of the younger woman’s voice, as she sits beside her on the passenger’s seat. A smile immediately settles on her lips, persistent despite her efforts to swallow it back. 

  * Hi. 



She turns to the woman for a short instant, before quickly returning her glance to the road, joining the circulation again. If she was honest with herself, she would notice how it was suddenly not so easy for her to maintain the young woman’s glance. 

  * How are you?
  * I’m well. 



Staring a bit too intensely at the redhead’s side profile — the abruptness of the nose, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the sleek brow — Mary forgets to ask the question back. 

  * I’ve been surprisingly well too these last few days. 



She throws her head slightly back, putting rebellious strands back in their place, with such casualness — handling the subtle breach in her facade with the most trivial of smiles. 

  * Oh, that’s nice… 



Mary did not know what to answer, trying somehow not to think about the reasons that could possibly make Zelda happy; it being some man she might be interested in, or maybe, perhaps, potentially because of her? “That’s ridiculous”, Mary tells herself. “We’ve only just met.”

  * So we’re going to your family’s ancestral home, aren’t we?



Mary turns to the ginger, taking on her most confident voice she has, which still sounds slightly shaky. She hates sounding like that. 

  * Hm, hm. 



The woman nods, eyes still glued on the road. 

  * Is it far?


  * Not really. We’ll be there in a few minutes. 



The elusive answer makes Mary chuckle silently. But instead of pushing the questions further, she stays silent, her mind dwelling on the word “we” in Zelda’s mouth; it sounded so natural, so much warmer than when Mary tried saying it. It felt like, for Zelda, this wasn’t strange at all. 

In the safeness of the car, behind thick windows and through the soothing turmoil of the city, Mary lets her eyes fall to the woman’s hands on the wheel. She turns it in one flowing movement, hands gracious and precise, with a smirk. She is completely aware of her effect on the other woman. Some remark escapes her lips, but Mary hears the voice and not the words, and she hums in agreement, melting in the moment too much to really care. 

After maybe a minute of silence, the ginger reaches over to the radio and turns it on, mellow jazz invading the small space. Mary smiles. 

  * I love that song. 



Mary could swear she is feeling the woman’s glance on her, in the rear mirror, but it takes a few seconds before she actually gathers the courage to look up and return her stare. When she does, she meets hooded eyes, down on the road, and wonders whether Zelda looked away, or if it had been in her head all along. Her mind clings unto the first option desperately, though she doesn’t really believe it. 

  * We’re here. 



Mary looks up at the imposing gray stone house, with ivy climbing up the front, not surprised at all by the slightly gloomy elegance emanating from it. It’s all very Zelda-like. 

  * Auntie!
  * Hi sweetie!



The little girl runs towards the redhead and hugs her tightly, before the woman takes her by the hand to walk her back to the house. 

  * Are you having a nice day?



Mary is surprised at the woman’s sudden warmth, an energy different even from the moments she suddenly opened up. 

  * Yeah… I played with Margaret. 



The redhead turns to Mary, a new kind of smile dancing on her lips, and half-whispers. 

  * That's her doll.



The little girl clutches Zelda's hand to get her attention back, as they sit down in the living room; Zelda on the leather couch, with Sabrina on her lap, while Mary chooses the Queen Anne style green armchair. 

  * But where were you this morning auntie Z?



A fog seems to gather in the ginger’s eyes. 

  * I had things to deal with darling. 
  * What kind of things?
  * Work things. 
  * With uncle?
  * Yes, with your uncle. 



Mary sees how Zelda tenses at the little girl’s words, as innocent as they were. She still can’t help her curiosity to prevail. 

  * You have a job then?  
  




The redhead turns to her, seemingly surprised by the question. 

  * Oh… well, it’s complicated. 



Mary nods, unsure of what to answer, or if she should answer anything at all. The girl turns to her, only now noticing her presence it seems, or maybe finally finding the courage to ask the question. 

  * Who is that auntie?



Zelda’s smile is back in a second, though this time it seems she is doing it more for the sake of her niece than for herself. 

  * That… is Mary. 
  * Is she your friend?



The older woman’s lips curl up, and Mary thinks she can almost find a glimpse of shyness in her humble expression, with that playful eyebrow raised at her in interrogation. Mary chuckles, and shrugs. 

  * Yes. 



The little girl turns to the brunette. 

  * Hi Mary. 
  * Hi. You’re Sabrina, right?



The blond child gasps dramatically, and Mary tries containing a laugh. 

  * You know my name?
  * I do, your aunt told me. 



As she says it, Mary looks up and meets Zelda’s eyes, seeing a sparkle of something in them, which makes her freeze in place for a second. 

  * Do you know how old I am?
  * Well, I… 
  * I’m 4 and three quarters!



She holds up four fingers proudly. 

  * Like that. 



Mary smiles. 

  * I see. 
  * Can I show you my doll?



Looking up to Zelda, almost for permission, Mary sees only tenderness — a flow of tenderness which creates a lump in her chest. She smiles, at her and at the little girl. 

  * Of course. 



She turns around, runs to a corner and grabs some porcelain doll which was sitting on the other couch. 

  * That’s Margaret. 
  * She’s really pretty… 



The brunette runs her fingers on the delicate features, skin warm against the cold material. The pale face and green eyes remind her of the woman sitting in front of her now, which she doesn’t dare look up to, even though she can feel her gaze on her. 

  * Do you know what happened to her today?



Mary chuckles again. 

  * I don’t. 
  * Well, you see, Margaret is very chatty, and… 



Sabrina’s voice, high-pitched with a bit of a snotty tone, fills the silence that would have surely fell upon the two women, an avalanche of words flowing over the ones that remain unsaid. The ginger watches in awe, as the little one chatters away, even ending up curled up at Mary’s feet, eyes up on her with the sweetest of expressions. 

  * Do you think Margaret would like a friend for Christmas?



Mary smirks at the end of her sentence, more confidently than she has ever had in Zelda’s presence, meeting her eyes. She immediately blushes when the woman’s stare lingers, accepting the dare it seems. 

  * I think Margaret wants a lot of new friends, that’s what I told auntie Z. 
  * And what did she say?



None of the women have broken the stare. 

  * She said Margaret could get two friends this year, but only because I’ve been really nice. 



In Zelda’s eyes, Mary can see a glint of sadness; the girl is an orphan after all. But the redhead still doesn't look away. Little Sabrina goes on, undisturbed in her joyful chatter. 

  
  


  * And I think Auntie Z would like to have a comb, because she always complains about her hair. 



Zelda laughs, very suddenly, a dry, light laugh that takes Mary by surprise. The little girl giggles too, leaning towards Mary to whisper, though loud enough for the three of them to hear. 

  * And she uses bad words… 



Mary chuckles, her glance still locked into Zelda’s. They have both been staring for a while now. Without breaking it, Mary leans over to the little girl, with a mischievous smile, playing along. 

  * Bad words? Like what?



The redhead raises an eyebrow at that, impressed with the other woman’s sudden playfulness. 

  * Like… 
  * Zelda! I can 't believe you didn’t even tell me you were here with our guest!



A short blond woman with an excited voice bursts into the room, all smile and bubbly charm. 

  * I’m Hilda! You’re Mary, I presume. 



She holds out her hand, and Mary shakes it, still slightly rattled by the woman’s loud entrance, especially in such a tense moment, breaking their minute-long stare. 

  * Yes. 



The word slips out of Zelda’s mouth first, and the two other women turn to her as she lights her cigarette with the utmost nonchalance. Mary catches her glance, of which the piercing quality makes a bolt of lightning crash through her abdomen. The woman is making her feel so many things she has never felt before. She looks away, but surely the redhead noticed her turmoil once again. Hilda clears her throat, startling Mary, and breaking the moment for a second time. She seems suddenly uncomfortable, playing with her fingers as she walks back to the other end of the living room.

  * Well, pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry for my appearance, I know I look a bit slapdash, I’ve been cooking all morning! 



Mary turns back to her, suddenly feeling like an unwanted intruder despite the blonde’s enthusiasm. 

  * Oh, you didn’t have to… 


  * Don’t worry dear, I love cooking. 



They smile at each other for a few seconds in silence, unsure of what to say next, before Hilda looks at little Sabrina. 

  * It’s time for your afternoon nap my love!
  * Oh no, auntie Hilda, I don’t feel like sleeping!



Mary chuckles at how adorable the little girl is. And she goes on pouting, before objecting again in the most polite of voices. 

  * Can’t I stay for lunch?
  * But you’ve already eaten sweetheart!


  * But I’m not sleepy!



Hilda swallows a laugh, and walks back to take her by the hand. 

  * Come on, off we go. 
  * Is it alright if I go play with Margaret quietly in my room instead?
  * Yes, alright. 



As they leave the room, Mary shoots a glance at Zelda. She clearly doesn't realize she is being watched : her features are softer, somehow more open, with a discreet smile at a corner of her lips. She really loves the girl, looks at her with the eyes of a mother. Or so it seems to Mary, but she never had much of a mother anyway, so how would she know?

* * *

  * So, Mary! What do you do?



The young woman turns to Hilda, whose enthusiasm never seems to faint, despite her sister’s relative silence, her coldness even, ever since they sat down for dinner a half hour ago. 

  * I’m studying, to be a teacher. An English teacher.
  * Oh that’s marvellous! I admire teachers so much. Don’t you Zelds?



Mary hides her smile at the nickname. The redhead is not the kind of woman she would have tried using any sort of moniker with. She nods at her sister’s question, her gaze flicking between the two for a short instant as she hums an answer. 

  * Hmm, yes, absolutely. 



And it's not that Zelda doesn’t believe it, thinks Mary, just that she now seems further than she ever was. Why did she invite her here only to be like this?

  * You know, this house is more than a hundred years old. It was our great-grand… 
  * I don’t think Mary wants to hear our whole family history Hilda.



The ginger’s tone is dry, and her sister shrugs and looks down at her plate. She doesn’t seem really hurt, like she is used to it, but it still breaks Mary’s heart. 

  * But I do. 



Zelda turns to her, surprised, and clearly speechless. 

  * Oh, well… 



The blonde turns to Mary again with a warm smile. 

  * As I was saying, our great-grandfather bought this, and it’s been ours ever since. He was a businessman, you see, he founded the Spellman’s estate agency with his brothers, and then my father, well, our father, was the head of it, before passing it to our brother Ed… 
  * Don’t you have this job of yours to get to Hilda?



The blonde looks at her older sister again, but this time there is more sadness than irritation in her eyes. The whole room feels heavy for a second, as Hilda looks down at her plate with a sorry smile, Zelda with her glance glued somewhere on the wall in front of her, frowning, and Mary trying not to stare. 

  * Yes, I do have to go soon actually. 



She lets out an uneasy chuckle, before glancing towards Mary to clear up her conclusion. 

  * My husband is waiting for me at our bookstore for my shift, I have to run! 



Mary has many questions, starting with this bookstore the couple seems to own, but she feels it would be inappropriate at the moment, so she stays silent. Hilda stands up, already rushing to the kitchen when she shouts a few last words. 

  * Very nice to meet you, Mary, I hope we’ll get to see each other again!
  * I do too!



And she is gone. The silence between Zelda and Mary is now heavier than ever. It should be just like when they were alone an hour ago on the car ride there, but it isn’t. Mary has many questions, starting with this bookstore the couple seems to own, but she feels it would be inappropriate at the moment, so she stays silent. Hilda stands up, already rushing to the kitchen when she shouts a few last words. 

  * Very nice to meet you, Mary, I hope we’ll get to see each other again! 
  * I do too! 



And she is gone. The silence between Zelda and Mary is now heavier than ever. It should be just like when they were alone an hour ago on the car ride there, but it isn’t. The redhead seems distracted, bored even, and Mary is starting to wonder what she is still doing here. Does she want her to leave?

  * If you prefer spending the afternoon alone after all, I can…
  * No.



The word slipped out of her lips almost with urgency, but when Mary lays her eyes on her the cold composure is back.

  * I asked you to come have lunch here, I won’t kick you out with your plate only half finished…



Mary stays slightly tense; the redhead doesn’t want her to leave, yes, but she doesn’t exactly sound happy with her presence either. Looking down at her plate, the younger woman finds the food suddenly uninteresting.

  * I’m not really hungry anymore…



Zelda smiles, maybe for the first time they sit down at the table.

  * Me neither. Drink?
  * Of course.
  * Let’s go sit in the parlor.



Mary follows her to the private room, not the same as before, but a smaller, darker sitting area. Zelda walks over to the liquor cabinet and pours whiskey into two crystal glasses; Mary’s eyes follow her hand’s every movement, taking advantage of the woman turning her back on her to stare shamelessly. Looking around, she chooses to sit down in a similar armchair. Instead of opting for the couch almost at the other end of the room, like Mary anticipated her to, Zelda lets herself fall into the other armchair just next to Mary’s, putting their glasses down on the table between them. She is closer now, yes, though she still seems so far away.

  * Sabrina really is an adorable little girl.



The words seem to almost startle the redhead, whose head swiftly turns to Mary. Though this softness that always comes with anything related to Sabrina soon invades her gaze. 

  * Yes, she is quite special.. 
  * Seems very smart too.



Zelda nods and lets out a chuckle, dry and short as if she tried to contain it but failed. 

  * If I have children one day I hope they’ll be as charming as her… 


  * Oh, you’re too kind. 



She sighs while finishing her sentence, and suddenly the shadow of her previous grim mood is back, hanging from her features. They stay there, in silence, for almost a minute, Mary taking sips of her whiskey and looking around, waiting for the redhead to say something. She could talk first, maybe she should, but the woman’s change of attitude, the way she tilts her head slightly up to the ceiling and bites her lower lip in thought, stubbornly avoiding her eyes, makes Mary feel like it would be somehow inappropriate to say even one word. 

  * Go play us something. 



Mary turns to the redhead, and follows her gaze to the corner of the room. There is a piano there, that Mary had not noticed when she came in. 

  * How did you know I can play?



The woman turns to her and smirks. 

  * You’re just that type of girl, aren't you?



Mary doesn't know what to answer to that. But she can’t refuse Zelda anything — and it’s just now she realises it, the extent of what she would do for her. So she stands up and walks over to the instrument. She feels the cold leather against the skin behind her knee when she sits down on the bench; it feels like no one has sat there in ages. 

  * What do you want me to play?
  * Anything. 



She smirks, playful all of a sudden. 

  * Anything good. 



Mary hesitantly starts playing, her fingers finding the familiar keys to a simplified version of Debussy's Clair de lune, or at least one of the bits she remembers, which used to be one of her favourites when she learned a bit of piano at the orphanage. The music unfolds, swirls around the room, and some of the tautness faints away with the last lingering note. 

  * I did play a little myself… 



The redhead is now standing behind Mary, who until now, from the sound of her voice, didn’t know how close she was. 

  * I wish I remembered… 
  * Maybe you do. 



Mary turns around, half-facing the woman. Looking at her from below, Mary feels minuscule. 

  * The only way I know if I remember anything is if I try playing it. 



Then in a second, without Mary fully realizing what is happening, she found herself sitting next to the redhead, thigh against thigh, arms brushing, and the woman’s fingers just next to hers on the keyboard.

  * Let me try… 



She starts playing a few notes, of a piece Mary doesn't recognize, her brows furrowed in deep focus. The brunette struggles not to stare at her parted lips, and when she gives in, the glimpse of her tongue running on the tip of her teeth sends a wave of new, warm feelings coursing into Mary’s body. She blushes furiously and looks away, hoping the other woman didn’t notice. 

Just at this moment, Zelda stretches her hand to reach a lower note, her finger brushing Mary's in the process — she had not even realised she had left her own hand there, laying on the keyboard — and for some reason the woman’s fingers seem to linger, slipping on Mary’s skin, and it seems intentional, just as focused as the woman’s careful playing, before suddenly her hand is unto the next set of notes, and the moment is over and Mary wonders if she hallucinated it. And when she starts thinking that maybe she should go, find an excuse and leave before embarrassing herself, she feels the tip of the woman’s foot on her calf, stroking it gently. The simple touch is overwhelming, sending a million sensations up and down Mary’s body, hot and cold and confusion and confidence and hope, so much hope she is about to turn around and face her, tell her, maybe she would even lean over and… 

  * Zelda?



The sound of the front door closing startles them both, and the redhead jumps off her seat and promptly makes her way to the entrance. 

  * Faustus, what are you… 
  * I can't come by to see my wife now, can I?
  * We’re divorcing, I’m not your wife anymore. You should give me the key back, I… 
  * Exactly, we’re _divorcing_. For now, you are still… 
  * What do you want?



Mary is still sitting on the piano bench in the parlor, not doing what to do. She knows she shouldn’t be listening, but she does anyway. She even imagines the scene in her head, the man all sweaty and red, desperate, miserable, and Zelda, standing tall in front of him, her face a cold and steady mask like she saw it become a few times today. Impenetrable. 

  * What do I want? I want… my life back, Zelda! I want us back, I want… 
  * There is no more us, Faustus. 



There is a silence, and Mary is almost scared of what might happen next. 

  * Zelda, I need you… 



His voice is one of a broken man, but Mary feels an unhealthy joy from it. Somehow, just by hearing his voice, she hates him deeply. 

  * The company needs you. 



Once again, the mention of the company seems to have an impact on the woman, since she doesn't even answer. 

  * I knew you came by this morning to tell me that you didn’t… 



Mary imagines him doing some vague gesture of the hand to express his idea, because he leaves his sentence unfinished. 

  * But there’s this house, we… Well, you know, the Kinkle’s house, it isn’t selling, and I thought you… 
  * Could do your bidding? So that after that you get all the praise and I get the crumbs you left me? 



There is a sudden determination in the woman’s tone. 

  * No. Not anymore. 



Mary holds her breath, waiting for the man’s reaction. 

  * So that's how it will be from now on then? Just you, spitting your words at me like an old bitter woman, hiding in your family home like a scared little girl, and, oh so ironically, letting down everything your family has worked for… That's how you want it to be?



An instant of silence, then heavy footsteps down towards the parlor. 

  * We’re done here. You know where the door is. 



The woman enters the parlor as she finishes her sentence, and seems surprised to see Mary still sitting there. Before either of them can find anything to say, Faustus bursts into the room behind Zelda. But as soon as he sees Mary, he freezes. 

  * Who’s this?
  * A friend. 



He nods his head at Mary, a hello of some sort, but on his lips there is a strange smirk, that the younger woman doesn’t quite understand. 

  * Oh I see… 



He looks at her, then at Zelda, then back at her, and the last words that slip out of his mouth are dripping with a sort of sly bitterness. 

  * I’ll leave you to it then. 



And he walks out of the room just like he came in, leaving both women there, still, until they both hear the front door smashing shut. 

  * You should go home. 



Mary is startled by the redhead’s words. The woman that was sitting at the piano is so far now, as a very serious Zelda walks over to a drawer, gets out a bundle of money and hands it to Mary. 

  * Here, I’ll call you a cab. 



She walks to the phone, and Mary sees herself, as if from the outside, standing up, walking towards the door, ready to leave. She looks down at the money in her hand, and all of this, this strange yet memorable day somehow feels dirty, wrong. 

After hanging up, Zelda walks her to the door, and waits with her, smoking in silence. When she looks at her, through discreet glances, Mary doesn't know what she sees, and how she feels anymore. Maybe, all this time, Zelda was just this lonely woman, of which she was the willing victim. Maybe she won’t ever see her again after today. And if she does, what will happen then? After all of this, the hot and cold, the uncertainty of every moment shared, like walking on ice, it feels like  _ anything _ can happen. Anything or nothing, Mary isn’t sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo here's a bit of a longer chapter :) Sorry for taking so long, I hope you like it!!


	6. Immoral infatuation

  * Just tell me, Hawthrone. 



The gray haired lawyer has been beating around the bush for the last fifteen minutes now, and Zelda is getting impatient. She stares, long enough for him to look away, feeling his front cover of almost arrogant confidence melting a little. 

  * Faustus… 
  * What?



She can see in his face what he thinks of her; this unhinged woman, speaking louder than she should, more than she should. Yet she doesn’t care, and she stares still. 

  * Your husband has sought an injunction denying you access to Sabrina until the custody hearing. 
  * Custody hearing?



Zelda tries keeping her composure, but the words themselves send a wave of panic down her throat. 

  * He just had her over for the weekend, I… I thought we agreed Sabrina would stay with me. 



She hates the way her voice trembles, and hates the pity in that man’s face. 

  * Well, unless his lawyers misunderstood, he seems to have changed his mind. 



He looks down at his papers, ruffling through them in an effort to seem concerned. 

  * It says here that Faustus wants full custody of Sabrina. 



Zelda takes a breath, but the air burns her lungs. After everything he has taken from her, how dare he take her away too? The woman’s stab of pain soon turns into rage. 

  * But… He never even really cared about Sabrina before all this. Surely, that would weigh up in a hearing, wouldn’t it?
  * Well, in typical circumstances, it would… 



The man pauses, joining his hand on the desk. The redhead is about to press him to explain himself when he finally does. 

  * They asked the judge to consider a morality clause. 
  * What in hell is a… 
  * They have names, Zelda. 



His gaze is piercing, indecent, and Zelda feels a bitter taste invade her mouth. This can't be happening. 

  * Your friend Lilith, for instance. And, well, they are implying she isn’t the only one. 



Zelda clenches her jaw, trying not to show a single ounce of emotion, though her slightly shaky voice betrays her. 

  * Well, whatever filthy allegations they are making, they cannot prove them. 



_Filthy_. The burn of a shameful guilt runs through Zelda’s veins. And Hawthrone looks over at her, with this dirty little gaze, the gaze of the man who knows. 

  * No, they cannot. But the allegation is enough to draw suspicion, especially coming from an influential man like Faustus. It could sway the judge in his favor. 



The redhead composes her icy facade again and steadies her voice. She will find a way to fight this. 

  * When will the hearing be then?
  * Not until a few months, I’m afraid. 



He doesn't really seem to mind, and Zelda starts to wonder why she even hired this man in the first place. 

  * Is there any way I could see Sabrina until then?



Sabrina is not her daughter, technically, but the pain aching Zelda at the prospect of not seeing her for months suggests otherwise. 

  * It wouldn’t be very advisable… 
  * Advisable? I’m not a damn monster for god’s sake! I’m her aunt! I’m sure we could arrange something, I could see her in a lawyer’s office at the very least… 
  * I think you shouldn’t. 



Zelda breathes in deep. What kind of world is this, where she has to listen to this kind of man telling her what she should and shouldn’t do? But she does live in that world, in which the opinion of a man like that matters. So she nods, and stands back up. Clinical gestures. A brief, cold smile. 

  * Alright. Well, I think we’re done here. 
  * Yes! I’ll call you to keep you updated.



Zelda nods again. Say the least possible, that’s the only thing she can think of right now. Not open her mouth, because she doesn’t know how uncertain her voice could come out as. She hates sounding uncertain. 

  * I guess we’ll see each other again when the hearing is scheduled. 
  * I guess we will. 



Zelda turns around swiftly and leaves Hawthorne's office, resisting the urge to slam the door. 

* * *

In the back of a quiet, dim lighted bar, two women sit in a booth, sipping martinis. One is a redhead, perfect curves covered in a red silk blouse and a black pencil skirt, and who seems a bit rattled. The other, a thin brunette with a tightly fit black dress and voluptuous hair, sighs as she puts down her glass, of which the rim is stained with red lipstick. 

  * Morality? Do they mean… 
  * Yes. 



Zelda looks across the table and into the woman’s eyes with a heavy glance. Lilith chuckles, raising an eyebrow. 

  * Hm. 



The brunette takes another sip, letting a silence fall between them. What could she possibly say, after that? They both sit there, digesting the news. 

  * I just… I worry, you know? My little Sabrina, she’s so sweet, and Faustus… 



Her jaw clenches, and Lilith reaches for her hand. 

  * If he… breaks her, in some way, I swear, I… 
  * He won’t. We’ll make sure of that. 



Lilith stares at her friend’s face, squeezing her hand until she looks up again to meet her eyes. It’s Lilith, and Zelda knows with her she doesn’t have to repel the tears in her eyes, but she does it anyway. 

  * If it’s because of me, maybe I could talk to… 
  * No, Lili, I won’t let you do that.   
  




Lilith’s grip loosens on Zelda’s hand, and she looks away. They both know to what extent she would go for Zelda, even if they are both bound by a secret agreement to never address it. But as much as she cares for her friend, Zelda can’t bring herself to ask about her, and instead goes on. 

  * He already took the business with him, and now… She’s all I have left of Edward. As much as I wanted… as much as I treasured my family’s legacy, I was fine with letting the business go… It was insufferable working with him towards the end, and after, well, I couldn’t go back to the office, obviously. 



Zelda is fidgeting with the stem of her glass as she rambles, and despite already knowing the whole story, Lilith listens in silence. 

  * At least I have Prudence.
  * That’s your assistant, isn’t it?
  * Yes. 



Zelda smiles sadly. She has grown attached to the girl, which she loved mentoring through the roughness of the male dominated business world. Now she will have to face it on her own. 

  * She is keeping me informed of their affairs, but… I lost this battle already. Now I have my last chance before he takes another piece of my life away… 


  * That fucking bastard… I swear I’d cut him in half if I could. 



Zelda lets out a genuine chuckle, throwing her head back slightly. Lilith’s lips stretch out in a small smile; she means it, but she mostly said it to make the redhead laugh. Zelda picks up the olive at the bottom of her now empty glass and pops it in her mouth, cementing her change of mood. There wouldn’t be any more pity today. 

  * Anyway, there’s not much to do until the hearing… 



Zelda sighs, but Lilith can see the shadow of an idea in her slippery gaze. 

  * You’re going somewhere? 



She knows the woman’s tendency to flee her problems. She did it when she was only a teenager, staying from friend’s house to friends’ house not to spend too much time in the tensed family home. 

  * I’m thinking of it, yes. A few weeks… Chicago, maybe. Around there. 
  * You seem pretty decided. 



Zelda meets Lilith’s teasing glance, her brows furrowing. 

  * Why are you so interested?



The woman takes the last sip of her martini before answering, letting the words slip out casually.

  * Well I know you don’t like driving alone, so… 



Maybe because of the gin fizzing in her head, Zelda can't help smiling at the phrase. Lilith knows her so well. 

  * There is… someone. A friend. 
  * A friend?



Lilith smirks, and Zelda chuckles. 

  * It's nothing, I met her at the jewelry store when I bought Hilda’s Christmas gift… 



Zelda’s sentence dies out before giving any clear answer, but Lilith won’t let her get away so easily. 

  * And?



Zelda rolls her eyes but goes on. 

  * We had lunch. Twice. But I don’t think I should ask her to come with me… 
  * Why not?



Zelda shrugs. She doesn’t really have an answer to that question. Then it comes to her. 

  * I don’t think she would. 


  * Of course she will. 



Lilith smiles, and Zelda knows she isn’t saying the words to reassure her, but because she really believes them. Because she knows the effect Zelda has on people, just as she knows the redhead has a weakness for people who worship the ground she walks on. 

  * So, she’s a store clerk?



Her tone is meant to sound nonchalant, but her burning curiosity can be heard on every jumping vowel and every sharp consonant. 

  * Student, actually. She’ll be a teacher. 
  * She’s young then…
  * Yes. 



Lilith grins at the sight of Zelda; features softened, the corner of a lip twitching, a pensive gaze. 

  * You’re infatuated. I can see it.



Zelda huffs, but Lilith keeps on smiling widely. The redhead doesn't deny. 

  * You don’t know what you’re doing do you?



Zelda finally smiles back at Lilith’s amused expression. 

  * I don’t… I never did. 



There is a brief moment of silence, during which the words bloom into their full meaning. Despite the certain seriousness of the moment, Lilith lets out a short giggle. 

  * Well, I do think you know more than you did back then… 



Zelda rolls her eyes again 

  * Oh shut up, Lili!



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love writing Lilith in Abby's role!! Yes, I am bragging cause I think it's a cool idea 😌 I hope you liked this chapter, comments are always appreciated!


	7. Would you like to come with me?

  * Zelda, what… 



Mary’s eyes snap wide open upon seeing the redhead on her doorstep, a small satisfied smile on her lips. 

  * Hi Mary. I’m not intruding, I hope… 
  * No, no, come in!



Mary holds the door for her, so for an instant they are very close, Zelda glancing at her while she vaguely looks through her, preventing her eyes from clinging to something — her mouth, the arc of her nose or the curve of her neck. The redhead’s eyes roam around, seemingly to get a feel of the place. 

  * I’m sorry, it’s a bit of a mess. 
  * Nonsense! It’s lovely. 



Mary knows it isn’t, but decides not to comment. 

  * I was in the area, so I thought I’d come by for a drink. If you’d have me. 



She has that smile again, confident; it doesn’t seem like she is asking a question, rather that she is stating a fact. 

  * Of course. 



Maybe she should take her coat, or show her the way, or say something, but Mary suddenly has no idea how to act, so she simply smiles and walks the few steps to the kitchen, hoping she will follow. Zelda does, finding a chair to lay her fur coat on, and then standing at the window to look down at the dusk-bathed street, as if she lived here too. 

  * Is beer okay?
  * Yes. 



Mary grabs two from the fridge, smiling to herself at the thought of Zelda drinking beer; not what she would have expected from her. She discreetly casts a glance her way, and it hits her suddenly; there she is, in her apartment. This woman she has been thinking about constantly, now she is standing at her window, in her kitchen, after all that happened last time and made Mary believe she would never hear from her again. 

When she offers her the bottle, the woman takes a sip, but then puts it down on the table and walks back to her coat, much to Mary’s confusion, getting out a small box. 

  * Here, for you. 



Mary chuckles. Why would she buy her something? 

  * You didn’t have to… 
  * I wanted to. Open it. 



She opens the box, revealing a silver pendant in the shape of a book, on a delicate chain. 

  * Merry Christmas. 



Mary stares at the necklace, then at Zelda, speechless. 

  * This is beautiful, I… 



There are way too many things Mary wants to say, a lot of which she knows she can’t. Instead she lets a big grin invade her face. 

  * Thank you. 
  * You’re very welcome. 



The woman’s velvety gaze lingers on Mary’s face, even more invasive than usual, it seems. 

  * I didn’t even get you a gift…



Mary is already thinking of things she could buy her; clothes, a bag, perfume? A myriad of luxuries she can’t afford, but would buy anyway if it could make the woman smile even just once more, or give her an excuse to visit her. 

  * Nobody asked you to. 



Her voice, even lower than usual, sends a shiver down Mary’s spine. “And I never asked for anything either”, she thinks., though doesn’t say. Her eyes are still glued to the pendant, such a delicate little thing, so beautiful. She feels a new emotion, like an ache in her chest, when she looks at it. 

  * Let me help you put it on. 



Again, it doesn’t sound like a question. Mary hands the little box to Zelda, who carefully gets the marvel out of its casket. She turns around. 

  * It wasn’t too expensive, was it? 



Mary can’t help asking, even if she knows she shouldn’t. She feels a sort of little girl’s excitement _knowing_ the necklace must be quite precious, possibly the most precious thing she owns. 

  * Not _too_ much, no. 



The woman’s arms fly around Mary’s face, placing the pendant on her sternum before her fingers slide to the clasp, brushing skin at the back of her neck. The contact makes Mary jump. 

  * Are you alright? Did I pinch you? 



Her voice is filled with concern, which immediately warms Mary’s heart; though it doesn't stop it from pounding heavily and at a fast rate, her breath shortened and her mind hazy with just a single, banal touch. It’s so surreal, the effect this woman has on her. 

  * I’m fine.


  * Of course you are. 



Zelda’s expression, a pleased smirk and a raised eyebrow, surprises Mary when she turns around to face her. The ginger seems to be in a strange mood tonight; it almost feels like she is purposefully teasing her. Mary wonders why, because despite her playfulness, the woman remains relatively distant, not having said a word about herself since she arrived, not even to apologise about last time. As if she is hiding something, Mary ponders, though she would never dare bring up that reflection. 

For now, Zelda’s lips twitch with satisfaction as her eyes shamelessly cling to the younger woman’s neck, and her face. 

  * I knew silver would be for you. 



Mary smiles shyly, cheeks turning bright red at the way Zelda looks at her. A part of her wants to ask “how so?”, see how the woman would react (would she call her beautiful?), but she forces herself to change the subject. 

  * How’s Sabrina?



The woman’s smile fades suddenly, caught off guard by Mary’s question. Somehow she thought, or maybe just hope, Mary wouldn’t bring up anything about her life. She believed Mary wouldn’t be bold enough to forwardly ask any questions; and that is precisely why she went to see her, after this long day. Or maybe it was for another reason; but the redhead will not let those thoughts invade her head now. Not after all this. She takes in a sharp breath. 

  * She’s fine. She’s… she’s with… 



And here they are. Zelda can feel the tears gathering in her eyes, just as shame’s burn intensifies in her chest. She tries keeping up the facade, blinking rapidly and scratching her forehead, for a pathetic second, before giving up. She doesn’t know how many seconds, maybe even a minute, that she has been standing there, coming apart, when she feels Mary taking her hands, squeezing them gently in hers. 

* * *

The night’s greys are fading into blacks as the two women smoke in silence, on the roof. Zelda stands nearer to the edge, while Mary is awkwardly standing behind her, arms wrapped around herself to keep her warm. Zelda's story spins around in her head, in it big holes that the woman seemed unwilling to fill. At least, her tears have dried now. 

  * Can I do anything?



Mary’s heart breaks even more when Zelda turns around, not completely, dropping the word without a second of hesitation. 

  * No. 



In her eyes, there is a despair Mary doesn’t know, in front of which the younger woman is left clueless and vain. Should she even be here? The redhead keeps smoking in silence, and Mary stays there with her questions; unable to leave, and unable to speak either. 

  * I’m going away for awhile… 



An irrational panic hits Mary right in the guts, along with a sadness she has rarely known so sour. Zelda doesn't really care about her after all. I always knew, Mary tells herself. There was no way she could have cared about me as much as I care about her. She wants to leave, get away from all of it, _and that includes me_. And despite the pain and the resentment, despite a part of her wanting to make Zelda feel bad for showing up in her life and then leaving, she answers with the most casual tone.

  * I guess that is a good idea. 



Zelda lets out a distracted hum. Though after an instant of silence, and no more details, Mary can’t help asking. 

  * When?



She knows she doesn’t sound as casual as she would like. The redhead still has her back to her, her emotions and thoughts remaining an enigma. 

  * Soon, I think. I’m just driving East, towards Chicago. Might stop a few places on the way. 



Mary wants to know how much time she plans on being away, but she doesn’t want to sound intrusive. Lost in thought, she rubs her arms, the humid cold of the mid-December night sinking into her bones. 

  * Here take this… 



Zelda puts her coat on her shoulders, and the moment goes too fast for Mary to refuse. The comforting weight and warmth of the fur makes Mary sigh. She looks up to Zelda’s eyes, just a bit above her own, and is shrouded by a surprisingly maternal gaze — and the woman doesn’t look away. 

  * Would you like to come with me?



Her voice is confident, but all the rest, from her glance to her stature, scream the opposite. Zelda herself doesn’t believe those words came out of her mouth, determined that she was for this to be their last meeting, the last time she would see Mary before disappearing for a few weeks, and from the young woman’s life — and soon her memory too. But the thought of Mary forgetting about her is even more bitter than she expected. Lilith is right, she likes her in ways she shouldn’t. 

Mary stares at the redhead, and sees them; two paths along which she could go. She could say no, keep the life she has — and she does not hate that life. She could say yes. 

Mary’s fingers find the pendant around her neck. That’s what Zelda has been for her, since the start; the dreamy vision of a luxurious existence she never would have. Now Mary has a piece of that luxury, the precious metal against the roughened skin of her thumb. And she doesn’t care about it at all. She never even missed it. It’s Zelda she missed, she has been missing forever. 

  * Yes. Yes, I would. 



The ginger’s lips stretch in a small, almost humble smile. A few snowflakes fall around them; the sky celebrating with confettis, Mary thinks, just for her. Today is the day her life will change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just here to beg for comments if you have a second to spare, they literally mean the world to all of us (insecure) writers! Anyway, thank you reader, I hope you enjoyed this one


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